


A Russian on the Fourth of July

by Mrs_Spooky



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Celebrations, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:26:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7372693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Spooky/pseuds/Mrs_Spooky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not his holiday, but Illya is ordered to attend a Fourth of July celebration.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Russian on the Fourth of July

It was a bright, warm Monday morning in early July. Illya parked his car in front of Del Floria’s behind Napoleon’s car and descended the steps and entered the tailor shop. He hesitated briefly at the sight of the red, white, and blue bunting that hung from the walls.  The older tailor smiled and nodded.  He would be closing soon, his arrangement with UNCLE was to remain open until eleven A.M. After which time he would close for the holiday. 

Illya remembered the significance of the date, July Fourth.  _Oh yes, American Independence Day_ he thought to himself.  _Of course. Where did the year go?_ he wondered to himself, as it seems like they had just celebrated Independence Day.  He entered the curtained off both and heard the three blasts of steam from the press then he turned the hook on the wall to enter the inner sanctum of UNCLE Headquarters, New York.

Ling was at the receptionist’s desk and smiled brightly at him as she looked up from the monitor, having watched him enter the tailor’s shop.  Illya noted that she had a small American flag on her desk.

“Good morning, Illya.  Happy Independence Day!” she chirped as she handed him his badge.  

He glanced at the flag on her desk then at her, “You’re a Chinese national,” he observed coolly as he clipped the badge to his black suit jacket.  “I’m not American either, you don’t need to wish me a ‘happy Independence Day’.”

She shrugged, still smiling, “I just love a celebration, don’t you? You going to see the fireworks tonight? They’re shooting them off over the East River and I will be there to enjoy them.” 

“Of course you will,” Illya half smiled at her. “Your people invented fireworks.”

“Yes we did, and the Americans put them to good use too,” she smiled. “Have a lovely day.”

“And you.”

Illya strode through the gunmetal grey corridors on his way to Mister Waverly’s office.  All he had on his calendar that day was a morning meeting with Mister Waverly.  He wondered if he would have an assignment.  THRUSH doesn’t observe holidays and who knew what they were cooking up.  If he didn’t have an assignment, he was planning on hanging out in the lab,  There was a strange substance they were investigating and he wanted to catch up on their findings and provide whatever help he could offer.

The door to Waverly’s office slid open at his approach and he entered.  Waverly was in his customary chair and Napoleon was sitting to his right, totally relaxed. He noted the small American flag pin on his lapel right above his badge.

Napoleon turned and grinned at his partner, “Right on time, as usual,” he remarked.  He patted the chair next to him and Illya greeted them both then sat happily next to his friend.

“I will be brief, gentlemen,” Waverly started. “Good work on that Bulgarian assignment to retrieve those stolen military plans from THRUSH. We set them back a number of years in their plans to dominate Eastern Europe.  It was a difficult assignment and you carried it off beautifully.”

Napoleon and Illya exchanged glances.  The mission hit some snags that nearly derailed it, but the two of them together came up with a plan to save it. 

“The mission didn’t go exactly as planned,” he continued, looking sharply at his two young enforcement agents, “but it was a good recovery all the same.”

“Thank you sir,” Napoleon responded for the two of them.

“And now, gentlemen,” Waverly continued, lighting his pipe, “For your next assignment.”

Napoleon and Illya exchanged glances again.

“My son in law is having a celebratory barbecue at his home on Long Island.  You two will be our guests.  You are expected there at twelve sharp.” He looked at his watch, “That gives you two hours to get changed and drive out there if you are to arrive on time. Casual wear, please.  And at sundown, there will be fireworks.  The property as excellent view of fireworks from three different localities. It is also my granddaughter’s birthday, so it will be a double celebration. No need to bring a gift, she has more than she could want to begin with.”

He slid a piece of paper over to Napoleon, “This is the address.  I will accept no excuses. You are dismissed. I will see you BOTH there. At noon.”

He smiled contentedly as his two top agents left his office.  He picked up his phone’s receiver and dialed a number.

***

“ORDERED to a barbecue?” Illya groused darkly as they made their way to the exit. He noticed that Napoleon was more than just resigned to the idea. “You knew he was going to do this, didn’t you?”

“I confess, I had an idea this was coming,” Napoleon told him as they handed their badges to the smiling Ling on their way out. “I’ve been there before, several years ago.  It’s a very nice place and Mister Waverly has a nice family.” They exited Del Floria’s and as Illya headed to his car, Napoleon grabbed his arm. “Have you ever met his wife?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“No. I don’t believe I have. I’m having trouble picturing Mister Waverly married.”

Napoleon smiled, “You will like her.  And you will like their family.  Nice people.  I’ll meet you back at the apartment.  Get changed then come over, we’ll ride together.”

When he got home, Napoleon checked the map and plotted the route to the address then changed into navy slacks and white polo shirt with a red cravat.  Feeling suitably festive in his clothing, he fussed with his hair, getting the part just right, smoothing his errant bangs back into his preferred position.  The doorbell rang. _That would be Illya._   He opened the door for his friend, who was clad in khakis and a green t-shirt and was holding a box wrapped in festive paper.

“Not wearing black?” Napoleon teased, getting his keys. “What’s in the box?”

“It’s too hot for black,” Illya responded, eyeing Napoleon’s outfit. “You’re going all out, aren’t you?” He lifted the box slightly, “I refuse to attend a birthday party empty handed.”

Napoleon smiled and patted his friend on the cheek as they headed down to Napoleon’s car.  They drove in silence for a while.  Finally, Napoleon spoke, “How long have you lived here?  Six years?”

“Seven.”

“Seven years.  And you’ve never been to a July Fourth celebration in all that time?”

Illya considered the question, “No.  It’s always been another day.  More flags waving than usual, and traffic has been heavy, but I’m usually working.  It’s not my holiday anyway.  Remember?”

“I remember. I would have thought in those years living here that you might, aahh, come to appreciate the holiday.  You know…”

“I’m well aware of the significance.  I’m happy for you Americans and your independence, but it doesn’t have much meaning for me. I didn’t want to be ordered to celebrate it is all.”

Napoleon eyed his friend, “Would you have come if you weren’t ordered?”

“No.  If we didn’t have an assignment, I was planning on spending the day in the lab.  Still, it’s a day off. And there’s going to be food…”

Napoleon chuckled, “LOTS of food.  GOOD food too.  And lots of red, white and blue.  Just be prepared.”

Illya nodded, “I can live with that.”

Napoleon found the house and found a place to park the car in the long, circular driveway. It was a very large home with expansive grounds with plenty of lawn and trees. The sound of voices chatting happily and children’s laughter wafted their way along with smells of grilled meats and vegetables.  He noted Illya staring dubiously at the home.

“You must be feeling pretty Russian right now,” he observed dryly.

“A bit. I’ve never been in a place like this when I wasn’t working. I’m not sure I know how to behave.”

“Just be yourself,” Napoleon offered. “Ummm, on second thought, just be nice.”

Napoleon grinned at Illya’s scowl as he retrieved his package from the back seat.  “Just remember to smile. Remember, Americans smile a lot.”

They walked up to the massive front door, wondering if they should head around back instead. Napoleon shrugged and rang the door bell.  it was answered shortly by a 16 year old girl, festively attired in red shorts with a blue and white shirt and a “Happy Birthday” tiara nestled in her short, brown hair.  Brown eyes widened.

“You must be Napoleon, I remember you,” she smiled at the smiling, dark-haired man. She turned to Illya, awestruck, “And you’re Illya! Rad vstretit'sya s vami , ya Melani.”

Illya’s eyes widened, “Rad vstretit'sya s vami tozhe . S dnem rozhdeniya! Your Russian is very good. This is for you,” he smiled as he handed her the package.

“THANK you!” Melanie gushed, blushing. “You really shouldn’t have. Please, come in! You’re right on time.”

Illya followed Napoleon into the very well appointed house. It was decorated in traditional American style, he noted, mixed with Colonial and American Naval accessories.  These folks were very comfortable.

They were joined in the dining room by a petite older woman with short grey hair wearing white slacks and navy blue shirt followed closely by Mister Waverly.

“Napoleon, so good to see you again,” Mrs Waverly greeted him warmly.  “And Illya! Thank you so much for coming, I’ve heard so much about you.”

Napoleon stifled a grin and returned the greeting, as did Illya, suddenly wary. _WHAT has she heard?_

“Gentlemen! Right on time, good,” Waverly said, pleased.  “What’s this?” Pointing to the wrapped package Melanie was holding.

“I can’t attend a birthday party empty-handed,” Illya said simply.  Napoleon just shrugged, _I didn’t tell him to do that._

“Can I open it?” Melanie asked, excited.  “Please?”

Waverly was saved by the entrance of a tall, slender man with closely-cropped brown hair and a smaller woman, both clad in red, white and blue. 

“Mark, Melissa, you’ve met Mister Solo,” the couple nodded, smiling and shook his hand in greeting. “And this is Illya Kuryakin, one of our top enforcement agents. Actually, Section Two, number two. This is my daughter Melissa and my son in law Mark Mancuso.” 

“Good to see you again, Napoleon,” they said.  Mark eyed Illya appraisingly and stuck out his hand, “Pleased to meet you too, Mister Kuryakin.”

“Illya. Please,” Illya responded.

“Illya, then,” Mark nodded.  He noticed the package Melanie was holding, “What’s this?”

“Illya brought it for me, daddy,” Melanie told him.  “May I open it?”

Mark glanced at Illya then nodded, “Sure, honey. Go ahead.”

Grinning, Melanie sat in a nearby chair and tore the paper off the sturdy cardboard box that had Cyrillic printing on it.  She squealed as she opened the box, “A matryoshka doll!!!” 

She gently lifted the ornately painted oblong wooden doll from the box and gave its head a twist to reveal an identically painted doll inside. She tenderly replaced the head then laid the nested dolls in the box then jumped up to give Illya a hug. “THANK YOU THANK YOU Spasibo!!”

Illya patted her shoulder, smiling, “pozhaluysta.”

“Ok, she doesn’t have one of those!” Mrs Waverly marveled.

“It’s a lovely gift.  Thank you very much.” Melissa said, smiling.

Melanie ran the box with her treasure up to her room and rejoined them as they were herded out back where the rest of the guests and the food was being set out.

Napoleon stuck close to Illya as they entered the expansive yard that had a cover set up over tables and chairs. Mark attended the grills with another man, loading the juicy, grilled meat onto plates to distribute among the tables.  A buffet line was set up and guests all clad in variations of red white and blue were already lined up to serve themselves and take their seats.  They took their place in line, Illya appreciating Napoleon’s warning of all the red, white and blue people would be wearing.  He was suddenly aware that he stood out, not being similarly attired.  Melanie left her place in line and headed back to where Napoleon and Illya were waiting and grabbed Illya’s arm.

“You’re sitting with me, if that’s ok with you?” she smiled up at him. He returned the smile with an “of course!”

A grinning, portly gentleman cruised up to Napoleon and Illya and handed them each a bottle of beer.

Lunch was a pleasant affair with as much food as Illya could stuff himself with, to Napoleon’s vast amusement.  He wanted to talk to his partner but found it difficult, since his shaggy younger friend was surrounded by teenaged girls, all vying for his attention.  He noticed that Illya was not objecting to the attention, even picking up and playing with a toddler who had waddled over to see what the excitement was about.

Illya was busy feeding the toddler a cookie when Napoleon extricated himself from the crowd and headed out for some fresh air.  He was soon joined by Waverly, who was happy with a full belly and freshly lighted pipe.

“Nice party, sir. Thank you for the invite,” Napoleon said, accepting another beer from the portly gentleman who had apparently appointed himself the dispenser of alcohol.

Waverly smoked in silence for a beat, watching Illya with his granddaughter and cousins all clustered around him, “I regret that I had to order you two to come.  That’s the only way I could have gotten him here.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Mister Kuryakin. It’s Independence Day. It’s not his holiday, but it’s also Melanie’s birthday. She’s learning Russian and for some reason is fascinated by all things Russian.  Must be from her father’s time in the Navy.  He’d relate to them stories about their encounters with Russian ships in the Mediterranean.”  He shook his head fondly.

“You mean…”

“Yes Mister Solo. Mister Kuryakin is her birthday present. From me. Ukrainian is close enough it appears. And my gift brought her a gift.  He shouldn’t have done that, but that doll was precisely what she would be interested in having. I believe she’s more interested in him though. She collects people and experiences more than things, but I know she would love that doll. My son in law is a Navy man. He was promoted through the ranks to Captain until he retired.  He’s fairly high up in the Department of Defense now.”

Napoleon’s blood ran cold, “Does he know about Illya?”

“Of course he does,” Waverly responded, relighting his pipe.  “He loves his daughter and knows she’d be delighted to meet him. And he trusts me when I tell him Mister Kuryakin is a good man and about the work he does for UNCLE.

Napoleon relaxed. They chuckled as the toddler’s mother came to collect her child from Illya to put her down for a nap, but baby wasn’t having it.  She threw her arms around his neck and shrieked her displeasure in his ear.  Illya winced at the ear-shattering blast, and excusing himself, walked with mom carrying the baby into the house.

Waverly’s son in law joined them, surveying the party with satisfaction. Waverly greeted him with a smile, “Another magnificent celebration, Mark.  You are to be congratulated.”

“It’s the same party I throw every year,but thanks,” Mark said. “Your man is a hit. Melanie is thrilled, as are her cousins. Thank you for bringing him.” He caught himself and looked at Napoleon, “We’re happy to have you too, of course!”

Napoleon smiled, “Happy to attend.  It is a lovely party and I thank you for including us.”

The sun had dipped low in the sky and the sounds of firecrackers and sparklers were heard among the happy chatter of the guests.  Illya had emerged from the house, and spotting the men, moved to join them.  Portly man intercepted him, handing him a bottle of beer then moving on to ensure nobody went dry.  Napoleon wrapped his arm around his shoulders in a brief hug and asked how he was doing.

“Fine! Melanie is a lovely young lady and I’m enjoying her company.  Her cousins are all terrific young ladies too,” he nodded to Mark.

“Yeah, she’s a terrific gal.  She’s so proud she has the same birthday as her country,” Mark smiled. All raised their bottles briefly and took a drink.

“July the fourth.  The British colonies in North America declared their independence,” Mark mused. “A revolution was needed, but independent we are, no more to be controlled by foreign leaders who don’t consider our concerns.”

Napoleon nodded, Waverly smiled, thinking the American Revolution was a divorce that worked out quite well for all involved, all things considered. He was glad the two nations were still friends.

“America has been very kind to this foreigner,” Illya noted. “I’m happy to be here. Thank you.”

Mark looked hard at Illya then nodded with a smile and clapped him on the shoulder. “Happy to have you, sir.”

The men moved with the rest of the guests to a rise in the corner of the yard for the best view of the fireworks.  A multicolored starburst appeared in the sky followed a few seconds later by a distant boom.  The show had started.  Melanie had located Illya in the crowd and took his hand.  She smiled up at him and was pleased when he returned the smile, squeezing her hand in return. Napoleon caught the look and draped his arm about his friend’s shoulders and watched the fireworks. 

He smiled. This was the best Fourth of July ever.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hang out on tumblr, and saphura wondered about how U.N.C.L.E. as well as Illya would handle the Fourth of July in the US. aconitum-napellus suggested that this would be a good idea for a fan fic, so here it is.
> 
> I hope there will be more. There are better writers out there who are up to the challenge, looking forward to seeing their work!


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